


why is it always me?

by London_The_Loser



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Clay | Dream Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Fuck L'manburg, Hurt Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt No Comfort, I literally hate l'manburg, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Imprisonment, Loneliness, M/M, Manipulation, Prison, Reminiscing, TechnoBlade, and he fucking deserves a hug, but they talk about it, owo, sadness., there is no manipulation happening, they also just talk abt child abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:48:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29352978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/London_The_Loser/pseuds/London_The_Loser
Summary: [there was no remorse to feel. they tore his entire world apart, left him alone. they spawned on his land because he trusted them, and all they could think to do with that privilege was fight.]aka. dream is tired of their bullshit
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound, Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 55
Kudos: 560





	why is it always me?

**Author's Note:**

> if you aren't a dream apologist/sympathizer, i respectfully dislike you <3 how does it feel to be wrong?
> 
> idk if this is good but eh, here you guys go

"i'm visiting you so i can make some things clear. don't pretend you feel sorry, and don't pretend you care."

dream sat motionless, back pressed to the wall behind him. his expression was blank, a skill he quickly had to relearn after his mask had been confiscated (a thrum of annoyance surged through dream at the memory, the understanding that it was taken entirely for his discomfort. there was no gain, no reason to deprive him of a source of his security. it seemed like a reoccurring theme, here on the _dream smp._ it was never about dream's comfort). 

god, he sounds like a kid. being alone in his own thoughts did nothing but drown him in every bad thought and emotion he strived to push down. he didn't spend every waking moment in a frantic attempt to resolve conflict just to whine about it in a cold, empty jail cell. 

"do you understand, dream?"

the man in question let his eyes flit over to his only company, george's slim frame a silhouette against the soft glow of magma. dream didn't think he understood anything, if his knowledge led him here, right now, sitting under george's shadow. george, who brushed the hair from his forehead and pulled splinters from the pads of his fingers. george, who sat on damp grass at dawn while dream trembled by his side, murmuring promises of _forever_ and _i love you._ george, who cared most when it was convenient and distanced himself as soon as the unrivaled thrill of freedom dragged him off the ground. george, who whispered _always_ as if always could be ignored in favor of _sometimes._ in favor of _never again._

_"don't pretend you care."_

dream huffed, dragging his gaze towards the clock on the wall. _the unrivaled thrill of freedom_. obsidian walls pressed into his sides every moment he sat between them, heat pulsed from cascading lava, seconds ticked by with maddening reluctance, and _freedom_ was so far from reality that dream questioned whether he had ever been free at all. maybe he hadn't been, not in years. not since war carved scars into his land and soldiers carved scars into his family, and he swore to kill whatever blood-thirsting illness would continue to eat at his home and those he loved. 

freedom became an unobtainable luxury as soon as dream chose to _protect_ instead of whatever mad clamor towards power the other's on the server seemed hooked on. they wanted so badly to claim a position of authority that would _always_ be dream's, had been his since the moment he poured half his soul into mountain tops and grassy fields and flowered forests. energy surged through the earth and through his body, every step a bone deep feeling of union as his physical form connected with the gentle pulse of the smp. he didn't have that now, sitting pitifully alone in his sadness. 

at least before, he had his land to comfort him, his home to drive him onwards, an inexplicable obligation to defend what was made from his hard earned experience. maybe it wasn't freedom, but it was privilege. this world was his, and he was the world. 

his friends seemed to prefer freedom over everything else, and he was ignorant for thinking he would be the exception. 

"i understand", he said instead. 

"good. i guess i'll just get into it, then." the other man took a moment to steady himself, leaning his shoulder against a cold, glassy wall. the white goggles that often perched on his nose were pushed up to the crown of his head. unwillingly, dream felt himself melt into the obsidian at his back, the familiar face of his best friend bringing him a feeling of repose. longing has never been a foreign feeling, but dream doesn't quite remember a longing as strong as this one. "you did horrible things, whether it was your intention to destroy or purely accidental. whatever remorse you might feel towards your actions does nothing to alleviate the damage you have caused all of us. i hope you don't sit in the cell every day and pity yourself for receiving a punishment you deserve."

dream took a moment to turn the words over in his mind, wondering if it _was_ his intention to destroy. his goal was resolving conflict, that much he knew. flushing out greed and pride, as a fight for power was futile. if their wish was to overthrow him and take his place as admin, they were childish. ignorant. naïve, selfish, greedy, immature _, shallow, obtuse, frustrating._ painful. 

hurtful. 

there was no remorse to feel. they tore his entire world apart, left him _alone._ nobody to brush against his shoulder when anxiety twisted in his chest, or lift his mask from his face when he forgot it wasn't an extension of his own body (maybe it was, at this point). they spawned on his land because he trusted them, and all they could think to do with that privilege was fight for _independence._ freedom. such a wonderful fucking feeling, freedom was. because of course a battle for freedom was honorable, a war to hold a tyrant king accountable for his abuse. 

when had dream ever denied someone freedom? there was no currency, no tax, no laws, no restrictions, no government, for gods sake. they traded raw materials for raw materials and bought service with diamonds. they were free to build what they wanted, where they wanted. they were free to argue, disagree, bicker and scrap in poorly built fighting rings. they were free to start businesses and compete with other establishments. was he so violent, so cruel and oppressive, that as soon as he might interfere in a private matter, they would craft such a narrative that _he_ was the abuser. 

they built walls with materials harvested from _his_ world, injured his friends with weapons crafted from _his_ ore. 

the land may not be _entitled_ to him and only him, but the dream smp was his in the way a house belongs to those who pay for it, regardless who lives inside its confines. they came into his home and used it's beauty to draw lines between the people and _the people._ they spawned just to claim they had any authority to claim independence from someone who lived inside the very ground they walked. 

dream was not _remorseful._ he would offer no apology. they bore into him without an ounce of sympathy, it was only fair to do the same. the dream smp will always belong to him, and he is beyond caring whether he will get his way peacefully, or pry it from their dead hands. dream blinked down at his lap, his own hands twitching against his thighs. he was just so _tired_ of fighting for fairness. he spent his entire childhood battling to be seen as human, ripping through mobs, digging through caves, yearning to experience the comfort of another person. he thought he had found peace, his happy ending. 

doesn't he deserve a happy ending?

"you know out everyone, george, it was you who hurt most."

dream heard a snort of disbelief, and he couldn't even bring himself to feel disappointed. he doesn't know when he became a monster in their minds, as if the nights spent pouring his thoughts and feeling out to the man in front of him meant nothing. as if all of that was purely _manipulation._ why wasn't he allowed to just _feel_ _?_ feel in the way technoblade feels, in the way wilbur felt, in the way tommy feels. because they can tear apart nations, burn buildings, slaughter animals and people alike, discard any empathy in favor of _power_. they could hurt him, and he was still the villain of the story. 

"i told you, i didn't come to hear you pretend." 

"i'm not _pretending,_ george!"

the man in front of him flinched back, like he didn't expect to hear frustration. like he forgot all the times dream fled from their hosue to swipe angrily at mobs, afraid he would say something out of anger, or hurt them. 

maybe george had just forgotten that dream was capable of emotions. 

"what else would you be doing then, huh? am i supposed to believe that you ever _loved_ me?"

dream's hands curled into fists, disbelief crawling up his shoulders. 

"i fucking _fought for you_ for as long as we've known each other. i sat with you guys when you had nightmares, i told you all my darkest secrets, i _lived_ because you were there to make life worth living. you were my only fucking friends, and i promised to keep you safe. did that mean _nothing?_ "

"well you obviously didn't intent to keep those promises."

"what do you _mean?!_ you ran around my server and did the dumbest bullshit you could've possibly done, out of pure irresponsibility. you picked fights with children, after we resolved an entire _war._ you ran in a presidential election for a country that ruined my life, i gave you one condition when i assigned you king, and you _broke it,_ then threw a fit when i took it away from you!"

"that wasn't _protecting me,_ that was controlling me!"

"no, that's making sure you don't fucking run around _my_ server and tear it the hell apart! that was protecting _you_ from getting yourself killed!" both of them were heaving, dream having hoisted himself off the floor to stand taller than his former friend. 

"i was immature, yeah. that doesn't mean you get to take it out on- on _tommy_ and tubbo and-"

dream cut him off with a bark of laughter, although it held no real humor. "that's so fucking cliché of you, to think this has anything to do with you. tommy doesn't get to do so much _bullshit_ without consequences."

"oh, so your 'consequences' include abuse and manipulation?"

"abuse- _abuse?!_ so i'm a fucking child abuser now, is that how we're going to frame it?! dream, the charismatic young man turned emotionless manipulator, abuses teenagers in his free time-!"

"are you implying it _wasn't_ abuse?"

"yeah, george. it was fucked up, and tommy's mental health was worse than i thought it was, and i messed up. but i didn't realize i was expected to let him fucking _destroy_ everything for the 15th goddamn time! what else did you want me to do, huh?! kill him?! that's how _technoblade_ solved his problems, and you definitely seem much less _disgusted_ by his actions."

"you helped technoblade destroy l'manburg."

"yeah, cuz i _hate_ l'manburg. i hate the entire goddamn country, and i'm glad it's gone."

"you're so spiteful, and petty-"

" _why is it always ME?!_ "

george stepped back quickly, body tensing from the change in volume. distantly, part of dream crumbled at the thought that george was threatened by _him._

"what-"

"why is it always _me,_ and only me. why isn't it tommy for being selfish, and ignorant, and immature, and impulsive? why is it never you and sapnap, for so easily believing that i never gave a shit about either of you, when i spent _years_ protecting you from absolutely everything. why is it never technoblade for being psychotic, for caring jack shit about everyone else and doing exactly what he wants for power. why is it never wilbur, for dragging kids into an unnecessary war, for building a nation out of false fairness and then going _crazy_ and blowing it the fuck up. why is it never quackity, for being so obsessed with control. why is it never schlatt, for being the _real_ elitist, for enforcing the state and- and-

...why is it my fault?"

george was quiet, and dream just about grinned in the satisfaction of it. maybe the other finally realized what a raging hypocrite he was, what a raging hypocrite they all were. 

"they're kids, dream."

"yeah, george. how old was i when wilbur came here? how old was i when this shit started." nothing. "ah. you don't even remember."

"the first war was 6 years ago..."  
  


"... _we_ were kids. i grew up, and he didn't."

"that doesn't mean you can just hurt everyone."

"doesn't it?"

from here, dream can almost see the glossy sheen over george's eyes as their gazes meet from across the darkened room. funny. he thinks he has a right to feel upset on dream's behalf. 

"we're people, dream."

"yeah? so was i."


End file.
